Hitchhiker
by Crowbartender
Summary: Lilly picks a lone figure up off the street and now her life will never be the same. AU Liley.
1. Chapter 1

**I was watching the incredible hulk and the hitchhiking scene came on. This is in no way related the that movie though. I just got the idea through it. **

* * *

I squinted as I peered through the windshield, trying to stay on high alert as the heavy rain hid the road, even through the brightness of my headlights. There were no streetlamps on this sector of the highway. Trees took their place and the moon was blocked by the tall and profusely dense leaves. I was alone on the dark road and I couldn't stop the fear licking at my insides, making me shiver as I caught sight of movement off to the side of the road. I slowed down, keeping my eyes on what could be a suicidal animal. It continued trudging through the mud path that was close to the line of trees and when I drew closer, I saw that it wasn't an animal.

Some poor, unfortunate person was walking through this mess and if I wasn't so scared out of my wits, I would've stopped the car and told them to get the hell in. But that figure could belong to anyone and letting a stranger you found wandering around in the rain into your car just screamed danger. Though I just couldn't help but feel sorry for them as I slowly crept up behind them in my car. I was honestly torn. Should I just go with my overly sympathetic heart, or should I just drive past them and forget that they ever existed? As if my inner question had been aloud, the figure lifted their arm, presenting me with their thumb. That was it.

I pulled up next to the now halted person and they hastily opened my door and sprung into the passenger's seat. I couldn't see their face due to the soaked hoodie they hid under. I swallowed my fear and offered a smile, even though the person wasn't looking.

"Where are you heading?" I asked casually over their heavy panting.

"Malibu," they croaked.

"Wow, you're a long way from home." We weren't even in the right state. Malibu, California, was probably over a seventeen-hour drive from Colorado, and that's without stopping.

"I know," their voiced cracked as they agreed, sounding hurt. "Just drop me off before any exit you turn, please." I nodded and started to carefully travel down the secluded highway once more.

"So... What's your name?" I asked. Their answer was a mumble, but I caught half of it, which sounded a lot like 'Stewart'. I didn't want to push my chances by asking him to repeat his answer, so I just decided to refer to him as Stewart. The only sounds were the soft hum of my heater, which was blocked by the chatter of Stewart's teeth and the constant ragged breath that came with every shiver. I couldn't sit like this for two hours. I stopped the car. "Get into the back seat and push down the button on top of the middle seat. You'll find my suitcase in the trunk, open it, and get some dry clothes," I instructed. Stewart didn't question me, hopped out of the car back into the pouring rain, and got into the back seat, doing everything I had told him to. I turned my head to the side and gazed out of the window, giving him privacy as I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel while I waited.

"Done," he whispered. I turned my head around to see what clothes he'd picked, but instead, I was too caught up staring at radiant blue eyes and a curtain of long brunette locks. He was a she!

"I-I thought you said your name was Stewart," I fumbled pathetically, watching the small arch of a smile form on the beautiful woman's face.

"I said _Miley _Stewart," she corrected and I tried to lure the subject away from my idiocy.

"You're still shaking," I noted, leaning forward and slipping off my jacket and handing it to her. I wasn't that cold and she needed its warmth much more than I did.

"Are you sure?" she asked, staring at the jacket in her hands as if she'd just been handed a bundle of cash. I gave a reassuring nod and smile, not wanting the seemingly nice stranger to catch a cold. Her returning beam was beyond grateful and she slid her arms through the sleeves, sighing in contentment as she relaxed into her seat. I reached out and took her wet clothes, placing them on the already damp passenger seat. "Sorry about that," she said, looking ashamed.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad I found you before you got kidnapped or something." Miley's laugh was throaty and light. She sounded worn out. I started the car again and tried not to make conversation, watching in the rear-view mirror as her eyes drooped shut.

* * *

I finally escaped the forest and reached the highway, but once I got on it, it would take an hour to reach any civilisation. I was dead tired already and wanted so much to just follow Miley's lead and fall asleep, but I forced my eyes to stay open as I scoped the signs to find my salvation. It came in the form of an arrow indicating to a turnoff that led to a motel. Perfect. I tiredly stepped down on the accelerator and counted the seconds my car took to eat away the miles.

Ten minutes later brought Miley and I to an old brown building, with a wonderful glowing 'vacancy' sign above it. I stretched back and nudged Miley's shoulder, her damp hair brushing my fingers as she shifted. She batted my hand away softly. I shook my head with a small laugh and pushed her again, this time waking her up. She sat up straight and yawned.

"Are we at the exit?" she asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.

"No, we're at a motel. I'm damn tired and need a nice bed to sleep in."

"Oh... I don't have any money on me. I could just sleep here if that's okay with you."

"Nah, we'll share a room. Come on." I didn't know why I wasn't cautious around this woman I'd never met before, but there was something familiar about her face that brought on the instantaneous trust. She didn't make me feel unsafe.

"No, it's fine, I'll-" I shut my door and went around to hers, opening it and scowling at her until she scrambled out and joined me. I locked my car and Miley silently trailed after me as I walked up to the small footpath to the entrance of the motel. The clerk behind the counter spouted a way too cheerful greeting and when I asked for a room with two beds, he apologised and said the only rooms left had one bed. I didn't care at this point, too tired to consider one bed a problem. I bought the key and pulled some notes from my pocket, wondering why my wallet wasn't there, but didn't bother worrying about it. He thanked me repeatedly for my service and turned to fetch our key and in that moment with his back turned, I glanced at Miley and rolled my eyes. She flashed a tired smile of amusement and my heart fluttered. With my mind going in and out of consciousness, I didn't really pay attention to my reaction to her and we both left the service counter to go to our room, where I would share a bed with a woman I didn't know.

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**Review and flood my inbox with your opinions. **


	2. It's Mutual

**Here's the next chapter. And like many others, I'm going to be watching New Moon tomorrow. No, I'm not THAT excited, but I am looking forward to it and I want to thank my lovely friend (who will most likely never read this) for buying me my ticket. You rock dude, and no matter how sweet you are and deny my requests at shouting you next movie we go to,** **I'm going to do it anyway :)** **The lone wolf cries = my little friend with a big heart (sorry for dissing on your height. You're taller than J and her stalker at least :P)**. **Can't wait to hang with you. And ApterousAngel, thanks in advance for coming to my house to hold my hand while I catch the bus. I'll buy you that book, I promise! **

* * *

Motel beds were never my favourite. They were always so lumpy, most likely from overuse or a tight assed decision made by the owner to buy a mattress from the stone ages. I tried to roll onto my stomach to cuddle into my pillow, not seeing any rush to get up despite my discomfort, but I bumped into something. The something moved and let out a light moan of disproval. Swiping my bed hair from my face, I peered down at the woman lying at my side. Her hair had dried and set itself in messy curls that fell past her shoulders onto her chest, which rose and fell in a smooth rhythm once she removed the hand I accidentally threw over her stomach as I tried to turn over. I had to admit I was tremendously jealous of this woman. She was gorgeous! She had the perfect set of lips I'd ever laid eyes on and they were the nicest shade of pink. Her cheekbones were high and what rested upon them caused a large fraction of my envy. Her long, dark eyelashes... Seriously, she's model material.

Miley, the name I couldn't forget, turned her head so she was completely facing me. And that's when I became greatly aware of the oxygen we were sharing. Shaking my head and holding my breath (unwillingly), I scooted away from her and then got out of bed. I hoped breakfast was included with my purchase, so I slowly made my way out of the room to the front entrance to find out.

The too friendly clerk from last night greeted me with an enthusiastic wave and I gave a lazy finger twitch in return. It didn't discourage him though, but I kind of wished it did. His wide smile seemed phony and he clearly used too much hair gel. The smell made me gag and I impatiently asked if breakfast was going to be ready anytime soon.

"Yes ma'am. It's being prepared as we speak and I'll be happy to bring it to you and your roommate once it's done," he informed gleefully. I sighed at the thought of food and nearly floated back to my room, where Miley still slept peacefully.

* * *

The beds and the state of the room may not have been high classed, but breakfast was definitely good. The eggs weren't overcooked, the bacon was oozing with flavour and the toast wasn't burnt. And there was a nice hefty amount too. When the two steaming plates were presented to me, I snatched them greedily, keenly roused Miley, and shoved the food onto her lap when she sat up. She stared at the food in shock for a few seconds, probably still half asleep. I smiled with my mouth full and swallowed before saying, "Eat up!" She remained unmoving and I warned her that I wouldn't hesitate to steal it once I was finished with mine. That seemed to do it. She started to eat and if I wasn't such a pig myself, I'd say she'd been starving with the way she wolfed down every scrap on the porcelain plate.

Once we were done, Miley was having trouble keeping her eyes open and each blink lasted longer than the previous one. I found it almost endearing and wrapped a few strands of the hair I'd been dying to touch around my fingers, tugging it lightly to get her attention. She glared at me with half lidded eyes, slight amusement dancing in her sleepy mists of blue as I chuckled.

"You can sleep some more if you want to," I said, my compassion for the helpless but beautiful woman evidently broadcasted. She wasn't much of a talker and I wondered a lot about why she didn't have a car, why she wanted to go to Malibu, and why she was so damn familiar. The mystery coating her was bothering me and I wanted to ask her so much, but knew she would either shrink away into the darkness she had shadowing her, or she'd just tell me to mind my own business. Or maybe she'd tell me and the truth would be worse than what I thought.

"No, if you're ready to hit the road then so am I," she replied with a yawn. I wanted to let her sleep, but I also wanted to get back home as soon as I could. I missed my house and my fish, which I really needed to feed. I'd been gone for only a day to visit my mum, but I still worried about Bubbles and Fishy. Yeah, not too creative, I know.

"Okay, well the exit I turn off at is about an hour down the highway, so I hope that's good enough."

"It's perfect. You've been so kind to me since the moment I sloshed into your car and wet your seat and ruined your clothes. I'll always remember this and I want to repay you someday. I promise you I will," she declared confidently, gazing into my eyes with a fire reflecting through hers. It's the first emotion I've seen flaring in them since we'd met.

"You're welcome Miley." The smile on her face fell as her eyes widened in shock.

"Hey... I never caught your name. I can't believe I didn't ask!" she stressed. I shook my head good-naturedly and we started to head out of the motel room, leaving a messy bed and our plates behind.

"My name's Lilly and you fell asleep before you got the chance, so don't worry about it." Miley gradually nodded and we thanked the motel receptionist as I handed back the key.

The need to ask the quiet drifter my mountain of questions heightened and I glimpsed at her as she walked behind me. I couldn't understand why she chose to follow rather than be at my side. Did I make her feel insecure? Pulling my car keys from my pocket, I unlocked my silver Toyota Camry (She's my baby) and removed Miley's still damp clothes from the passenger seat so she could sit up front with me. I leant over, opening the door for her and she gladly took the invitation. When she was safely buckled up, I kick started our comfortable journey once more.

I know little to nothing about Miley, but she somehow managed to make the silence that constantly fell between us tolerable. I was always chatty, usually babbling on about things no one really bothered to listen to, though I felt that saying one inappropriate thing to Miley would throw off the balance we've formed. I'm not used to having to keep a conversation relevant, so the mute atmosphere was partially my fault for being so paranoid about my choice of words.

"You look a little tense," Miley said, the concern in her voice easing my tight grip on the steering wheel, which I hadn't realised I'd been strangling.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about," I assured, sinking into my car seat with a tired sigh.

"Is it because of me? You can drop me off here if it-"

"Miley," I said firmly, almost laughing at her as she snapped to attention, her words dying on her amazing lips. "It's not because of you. I'm actually happy to have you with me. This drive is always so boring and lonesome and, though I know we don't really know each other, I like your company." Miley smiled and ducked her head, almost as if she were hiding her embarrassment. I didn't have time to look into it because I had to keep a careful eye on the road in between my glances at her, but my ponderings were proven correct when I heard her shy reply.

"I like your company too."

* * *

**Awww. **


	3. Take Me Home

**I didn't forget about this. **

* * *

"Mind if I turn the radio on?"

"It's your car." Miley shrugged. I turned up the volume and wasn't surprised to hear what was being reported. Damn it, after the first week, you'd think they'd get over something that wasn't any of their business.

"The disappearance of Hannah Montana after her huge fall from grace into the gutter still has fans worried. I'm surprised she still even has fans after-" The channel was changed and soft music filled my car. I glanced at Miley to see her dark facials as she sat back in her seat.

"It's got you bothered too, huh? You know, I don't get why they're being so harsh on the girl. I mean, yeah she got herself into some bad stuff, but she's still got her heart in the right place. I'm disappointed in her, but I really think she's learnt from her mistakes by now. I bet she's just going to lay low for a bit and then have this huge comeback," I ranted.

"I doubt it. All the parents are making their kids stop listening to her because she's apparently now a bad role model, so there would be no point for her to come back. Hannah is gone," Miley growled, shocking me with her despising tone. She mustn't like Hannah.

"That's fair enough, but I still like her. Her music never changed, it always stayed positive and encouraging. I know her songs are meant for kids, but... I guess her voice just hits home." Miley didn't say anything, so I kept my mouth shut about the Hannah topic. I didn't want to tick Miley off anymore, knowing she wasn't happy since she was wearing a glare that almost cracked my windshield.

* * *

We had nearly reached the exit and I was actually getting sad. I never got the chance to really get to know Miley. I was too nervous to investigate what went on inside of her head and the vibe she sent off seemed to demand respect for her privacy. So I did what she silently asked and kept my distance, but I itched to find out things about her. I still wanted to know her reasons for going to another state and such, but I also wanted to know the little things, like what she did for a job and what she did in her spare time.

All of these, however, were lost wants as the big green exit sign appeared a few miles ahead. I stopped the car before the turn off and faced Miley. She was smiling at me. Though her lips may have said thank you, her eyes said something else. The message was blurred, but I knew she was unhappy with this departure. I was as well.

Miley didn't waste time though. "Thanks for everything, Lilly. You have a kind heart." And with that, Miley got out of the car, and my life, and walked away.

* * *

I dug through my pockets in one last hopeless attempt, feeling nothing but some loose change under my finger tips again. Where the hell was my wallet and cell phone? I climbed into the back seat of my car and reached under the front seat. I came up empty handed and then crawled across to the passenger seat to search under that one, but I found something else instead. Miley's clothes had dropped onto the floor of my car and I knew where my wallet and phone were in an instant. In my jacket. The one which I had forgotten to get back from Miley.

I cursed and jetted out of my car and into my house, running through the living room to the kitchen. I snatched up the house phone and dialled my cell's number. I tapped the counter as it rung with no answer after seven rings. Soon the automatic message that played when my phone was off filled my ears and I almost threw the object in my hand across the room. I dropped it instead and ran outside, closing my door with a slam as I bolted to my car. I could only pray that Miley hadn't been picked up in the hour it took me to realise my cell and wallet were missing.

I knew it was stupid to think she'd still be there, but I had no other choice. Calling the police would be pointless. What would I say? "A girl that was hitchhiking to Malibu has my wallet and phone, but I don't know where she lives and my phone is off." Yeah, that would _so_ get me somewhere. Speaking of police, I just passed ones car. Shit, I hoped they didn't feel the urge to breath test me or pull me over for speeding. Was I speeding? I glanced down at the speedometer and sighed. My desperation didn't make me stupid enough to break the speed limit, thank God.

I reached the exit without being pulled over, but there was no sight of Miley. I drove down the highway I had dropped her off at for about forty five minutes, scanning the cars I passed by, hoping I would see her in one. But I didn't. The almost hour of doing this proved useless and I had to keep driving until I reached an intersection that turned off into the opposite direction of where I was currently going so I could drive back home. What else could I do?

* * *

It started to rain again and I sat in my car, in my driveway, head resting dejectedly on the steering wheel. All my credit cards, my licence, my contacts, all of it was in the pocket of a girl on her way to California. I could still charge money to my card over the phone or online, but that would only get me so far. Crap, I have the feeling that I'm going to have to actually chase after her and get everything back.

I gave my head a good whack against the cold wheel and then dragged myself out of my car, rushing over to the wooden porch of my house. But then I froze. My hopes of remaining relatively dry faded as I stood in the pouring rain, staring at what slumped next to my front door. I knew who it was, I just couldn't believe it. The clothes she wore were soaked into a darker shade of what they once were, my clothes. Her raised legs hid her face as she hugged her knees tightly to her shivering form. I could easily see the quakes from here.

Her image burned through my eyes and into my mind, finally getting it to understand that Miley was really at my house, cold and probably sick. I hurried over to her and bent down into the puddle around her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her head shot up and she looked at me. Under the dimness of my porch light, her eyes managed to glitter. Her face had droplets of waters coating it and it almost looked like they had slithered into her irises and made themselves at home there. Stunning.

"L-Lilly," she chattered, unfolding herself and lowering a hand into her pocket. Miley then presented me with my phone and leather wallet, both seeming to me only a little wet. "I-I tried t-to k-keep them d-dry," she went on, her shakes more violent now. I shushed her and took my things from her hand and I helped her to her feet. She leant into my side tiredly and I opened my door, pulling her inside.

* * *

**Here we go. **


	4. Just Get It Out

**Here you are.**

* * *

As I began to wake up from a good sleep, I felt a heaviness on my chest. I drowsily peered down and was dazed at what I saw. Miley. The close to mute hitchhiker who I thought I'd never find again after she'd scurried off with my phone and wallet. Here she was, in my house, in my room, in my bed, in my clothes, in my _arms_, with both my items resting on my nightstand beside my bed. It was almost too good to be true, having my things back I mean, not having Miley in my bed. Though she was really warm...

I wanted to manoeuvre out from underneath her, but I didn't want to wake the knocked out girl up because from the way she acted last night, I knew she was exhausted and needed the sleep. She could hardly focus on dressing herself, so I actually had to do it when she opened the bathroom door with one of my nightshirts on backwards. If I didn't feel so sorry for her hopelessness, I would've laughed.

Miley let out a small noise, a whimper crossed with a moan, and I felt her head turn, her hair brushing my chin and her fluttering eyelashes tickling my neck. She was waking up. Well crap, so much for moving. I shut my eyes, not wanting an awkward encounter between us when she fully awoke and found herself wrapped around me. The weight on my chest lifted and I could feel the light burn of her gaze on my face, heating my cheeks. Ugh, I really hope she doesn't notice.

I waited for Miley to roll off of me now that she was aware of her placement, but what she did instead stunned me. Miley sighed, adjusted herself so her torso wasn't sprawled over mine, and then nestled back into my neck. I didn't know what the hell to do. Maybe she hadn't woken up at all. What other explanation could there be? If I had woken up on top of someone I hardly knew my first objective would be to get off, not make myself comfortable! Geez, this was _so_ weird.

I hurriedly, but gently, unlocked Miley's one arm grip around my waist and then proceeded to turn her over onto her back so she was lying next to me. I eased out from under my blanket quickly, scared that she was conscious that whole time and had wanted me to be her pillow. Her eyebrows furrowed and her arm stretched out to my side of the bed and patted where I'd been laying. I couldn't hold back my smile over how endearing that little charade was. Sweet, but strange. Maybe she was used to having someone at her side in bed.

I didn't dwell on it for long though because Miley shifted over towards me, now resting in the space I slept in. I turned around and flew out of my room in a panicked state, like a little kid would after they'd just smashed their mother's priceless vase. I don't think I've ever shared my bed with anyone aside from Miley before. It just seemed easy with her. Well, it had seemed easy until I found out she liked to snuggle. Now I felt all edgy about it, but not because it was uncomfortable. No, I felt distressed because it was _too_ comfortable. And that's just not right.

I didn't know this woman for crying out loud! Of course I'd be perplexed about enjoying a night in bed with her. A nonsexual night in bed, I mean. The thought of not knowing her linked to another matter in my head and I came to the conclusion that Miley owed me. Big time. I think it's only fair for her to enlighten me with a few of her reasons for hitchhiking as repayment to me for lending her my... everything. Yeah, that way I would know her a little.

I got myself a bowl of Froot Loops once I entered my kitchen, ignoring the house phone that still lay on the tiled floor. The back had been smashed off and the battery was disconnected, but no one aside from my mom and Sarah, my best friend, called me. They could live a day without me, I'm sure. I needed to get this Miley business out of the way. She better wake up soon or I'm going to-

"G'morning," Miley's voice, still heavy with sleep rung out and I faced her with my mouth over stacked with my cereal, the milk leaking from one corner of my mouth and dribbling down my chin as I tried to smile with puffer fish cheeks. Miley chuckled, the sound deep and enriching. It was a nice thing to hear at this early hour, very easy on the ears. "How attractive," she commented, now next to me on the sofa. She sunk into the black cushions, smiling at me as I wiped my face and swallowed my teeth rotting food.

"How'd you sleep?" Moving on from my bad eating habits...

"Like a baby." A spaced out look adorned Miley's face for a moment, and even as laughter coming from the TV tempted me to glance away, my eyes didn't budge. There was something about her. The elegancy of her face, the untamed, wild aura she exerted, the immense beauty she bled, it all just... sucked me in. She stopped peering through me and placed a hand on my leg, freeing me mentally. "Thanks so much for letting me stay here, Lilly. I really don't deserve this kind of treatment."

"Nonsense! Miley you came to my house in the pouring rain just to return my stuff, letting you stay the night was the least I could do. You probably even caught a cold from being out there for so long!" Miley didn't seem to know what to say now and begun to scan the room, taking in my unruly domain. Blue walls, close to green, a moderately sized TV sitting on a black cabinet, which contained DVD's, an armchair facing the front door, a couch facing the TV and then two hall ways. The one behind the armchair led to the kitchen and then the other behind the couch branched off into my room, the gym room, and the bathroom. Yeah, it wasn't a big house, but it was... home.

"This is a nice place you have, Lilly. What do you do to afford it?" she asked, striking up conversation, which I knew was meant to lure me away from interrogating her about her current drifting. I wasn't that easy to distract!

"Well I don't have a job or anything, I kind of just... live off the money Mom gives me. I go up to her house sometimes to help her figure out some fashion trends for younger generations so it's not like I'm a total bludger."

"So your mom's a fashion designer?"

"Yep. I'm not all that into it, but I like to give an outsiders opinion. I guess the love for clothes doesn't run through all the Truscott's..."

"Whoa! Hold up! Truscott. As in Heather Truscott?"

"Yeah?"

"Sweet niblets! Your mother has practically designed half of my wardrobe!" Miley exclaimed, a shocked spark in her gaze.

"You and thousands of others..." I scoped Miley's current daggy attire. Her loose-fitting, faded jeans and light blue jacket were creased after they'd dried in my car and even shaking them for a good five minutes hadn't straightened them out. They didn't appear to be any of Mom's productions. "No offense, Miley, but someone carrying no money and hitchhiking to Malibu on a highway near Denver doesn't seem like the type of person with enough wealth to survive let alone buy my mom's overpriced clothes." Miley fiddled with her jacket's zipper, not responding, but I could see the displeased pout of her lips. "It's okay to tell me how you ended up in this mess. I can keep a secret," I vowed. Her eyes then scrutinised mine, the dullness replaced with a serious mist. She didn't want what she was about to say to be repeated.

"Promise not to tell a soul?"

"I promise." She closed her eyes, preparing herself. I was scared that the keen beats of my heart were so loud in my ears that I'd miss the secret she was about to entrust me with.

"I'm Hannah Montana."

No way.

* * *

**You know what to do. SO DO IT.**


	5. Past Problems

"Come again?"

"I'm Hannah Montana," she repeated, and I wanted to take it as a joke, I really did, but her eyes were too hard, her face too stern. With this grave appearance, I would've believed her if she'd told me she was Wonder woman. There was no trace of a lie, but I had to be certain.

"Sing," was the only thing I could think of to request. Miley nodded and lowered her head, somewhat bashfully. Why would Hannah Montana be shy to sing in front of one person when she could sing in front of hundreds of screeching kids without even breaking a sweat? I waited for her to annihilate all looming doubts and fully convince me.

_I feel like I'm a million miles away_

_From myself more and more these days_

_I've been down so many open roads_

_But they never lead me home_

_And now I just don't know..._

_Who I really am, how it's gonna be_

_Is there something that I can't see?_

Never had I heard any Hannah songs sung so emotionally or coated with such grief. And the softer her voice got, the richer its meaning became. I could tell that this song wasn't written for the fans benefit, who seemed to need a constant flow of positive messages from Hannah. But then again, this wasn't Hannah singing, this was Miley.

_I wanna understand!_

_Maybe I will never be_

_Who I was before_

_Maybe I don't even know her anymore_

_Or maybe who I am today_

_Ain't so far from yesterday_

_Can I find a way to be..._

_Every part of me? _

Her voice diminished to nothing but a whisper and then she stopped caressing my ears and looked at me, her eyes no longer hidden behind a blank curtain. She was now revealing what she'd tried to keep from me the entire time we've been together. She was finally showing her guilt. I could see she was sorry for what she'd done and she was lost. Hannah Montana really was gone, but she left Miley behind in her shadow to wander about pointlessly. I raised my arm and before I even laid it over her shoulders, she dove into my side, buried her face into my neck, and I felt the hot wetness on my skin immediately. Her seemingly permanent cover was disowned, trickling from where it once sheltered, gradually dampening the collar of my shirt.

I dug my fingers into Miley's tangled hair, stroking the mess of chocolaty curls in a hopefully consoling way. I preferred this colour over the blonde. "So...Did you dye your hair?"

"No, I wore a wig when I was Hannah," she replied, swiping at her eyes with her jacket sleeve and then wiping over my neck to remove all traces of her anguish.

"What for?"

"Being Hannah was like a secret life and at the end of the day I could just take off my wig and disappear into the crowd. It gave me privacy and space, but now that I've messed everything up, I'm just me...forever."

"Well from what I can tell, you're not so bad." I heard her chuckle through her tears. Okay, so I had Hannah Montana in my living room, crying about her crumbled career with no idea what to do. Perfect.

"I wanted to go home Lilly, to my daddy." To her 'daddy'. Cute.

"Alright. Do you want to use my phone to call him? You know, to give him a heads up that you're honouring him with your presence?" Miley let me go, faintly smiling over my words as she nodded. I went to retrieve my broken house phone and once I put it back together, I handed it to Miley who'd followed me into the kitchen.

"Could you give me a sec?" she asked.

"Sure!" I went back to my soggy Froot Loops while Miley called her dad. I was happy to help her out, especially after all she'd been through. Hannah went bankrupt after her little performance and was abandoned by her manager, practically kicked to the gutter for a mistake any girl could make. She got involved with the wrong crowd. That was it. She was caught drinking and had damaged property while under the influence and not to mention she was underage, so Hannah's reputation was swept down the drain and into the sewer of washed up stars, but there was more. Reporters assumed there was some kind of bet going on for her to lose her house and most of her money, though no one knew the circumstances or who was involved in the gamble. Hannah claimed that she had been too wasted and couldn't remember a thing the next day. She could only remember waking up to someone banging on her front door telling her to get out of the house, which had been robbed of many of its items. She learnt that drinking brought out your stupid side the hard way.

Miley quietly joined me on the couch again. Her focus was on the TV and I knew by her taut stature that something was definitely wrong. She didn't seem excited like I thought she'd be about going home. Her bottom lip started quivering.

"What'd he say?" Miley's head slowly turned and when our eyes locked, she threw herself at me, fresh tears falling down her cheeks as she choked back sobs. What the hell happened?!

"He's gone!" she wailed.

"Gone?" Dead?

"He moved away Lilly! He never told me he was moving and his cell number was changed! What am I gonna do?!" she cried. I couldn't do anything except tighten my grip, knowing she couldn't hold herself together the way my arms could. She was frail and hurt, but I was gentle, so no matter what, she wasn't going to break anymore. I wouldn't let her.

"You'll stay with me." I said the words before I'd even thought of them. Miley left the comfort I offered and stared at me.

"I couldn't do that Lilly. I already feel like some wounded animal you found on the street that you felt obligated to save. I don't want to trouble you anymore..."

"Where else are you gonna go Miley? It's not really any trouble when I _want_ you to stay with me now is it? Let me help you get back on your feet."

"Thank you Lilly, but I-"

"You're welcome... Want some breakfast? I can't really cook, but you can have anything you find in the fridge or whatever." I nudged Miley's shoulder until she caught on and stood up. I then threw my feet up onto the couch, not giving her any chance to protest or sit back down to chat more on the subject I wanted to avoid. She was staying. She could coax me into believing she wanted to leave as much as she liked, but I knew deep down she wanted to remain in my house. I may not know her all that well, but I trusted Miley and could tell she'd appreciate any roof over her head and would eventually accept even an unknown hand that was keen to help her up after she'd experienced the cold and pain of having nothing to shelter her and being a fallen celebrity.

She stood there in wonderment for a second, but I waved her off. And when she turned and walked towards the kitchen, I knew I'd won.


	6. Drawings speak louder than actions

**Here we go...**

* * *

The first week living with Miley was... straining. Yes, she picked up after herself, never asked for anything like I thought she would, I mean, she was a diva pop star before she lost everything, but she wasn't a burden to live with. No, she was very tidy, but my problem was her ignorance. She knew so very little about how to lead a normal life, to wait in line at the grocery store, to just relax and watch TV. She said she was always on the go, always at concerts or out wearing down the dance floor with her "friends". She was always doing something and never found the time to just sit in front of the TV or go for a soothing walk through the park. She hated constant attention in public and just wanted a break sometimes, but one was never given so she rarely went out to partake in some leisure time. I knew that it was exactly what she needed. Hannah may have only been young, twenty, but maybe retiring wouldn't be such a bad idea considering how stressful things had been for her.

"I think I want a job," Miley said suddenly, tearing my attention away from the episode of Family Guy I was forcing her to watch. I wasn't sure if she liked the program or not, but Miley tended not to complain about anything because she was living with me free of charge.

"What for?" I wondered absentmindedly, eyeing the TV for a second.

"Well, for starters, I don't want to live my life wearing your clothes." I echoed her chuckle. "Also, I'd like to pay rent."

"You don't have to do that. I don't." I caught Miley rolling her eyes with a slight smile as she robbed some chips from the bag I had placed between us on the couch.

"True, but I want to. I also need to find something to keep me occupied," she continued.

"And I don't keep you occupied? You seem to enjoy picking up after the messes I make before I get the chance to myself."

"I need a life outside of babysitting you, Lilly."

"Go to hell," I laughed.

"I've already been there," she muttered. My heart experienced a sharp pang and I threw an arm over her shoulders, welcoming her as she curled into my side, the chips crunching as she squashed them. I fished them out from between our bodies and placed the rumpled bag on my lap, making our connected positions more comfy as we watched Family Guy. Well, I watched it; Miley was probably listing possible jobs. I didn't want her money or her to go out and leave me alone, but it was her choice and I'd been living alone for almost three years, so I could adapt to an empty house again. At least, I hoped I could.

Miley's hand lifted and she lazily slipped it into the bag of chips, digging around for the left over crumbs. I almost sprung across the room as my insides flipped over and my breath lodged itself deep in my lungs and exhaling was out of the question as I almost choked on nothing but shock. Miley wasn't paying attention and I was kind of glad because that would bring forth an extremely awkward situation for the both of us. I felt my eye twitch as her fingers poked through the bag and continued to put pressure on a very personal area. It was sending spasms to places that hadn't dealt with such a sensation and my face was burning. I still hadn't released the breath that felt like fire in my chest now. Holy _shit. _I was so close to flinging up and screaming, "Stop fingering me!" But that certainly wasn't going to happen. Miley's hand was gone, now grasping what she'd been searching for and I scrunched the bag up and used it as an excuse to get the hell away from her.

I was so fricken embarrassed. I mean, what was all that about? Why did I react to her prodding? It should have just been uncomfortable and weird not... arousing. God, I shouldn't think like that! I don't even really _know_ Miley and I was going to be living with her for a long time, I'm sure, and thinking outside of straight territory isn't something I'd had to worry about before. Even if I was gay, which I'm not, there's no way I could be able to bag Hannah Montana. She had the selection of, well, every man and woman in the world probably. She had the looks, the wit, and from what I've seen so far, the personality. And what have I got? Nothing. I'm mooching off my mother and lazing about, my daily routine consisting of watching TV, skating, reading, hanging out with Sarah at her many environment services or helping her do some boring charity work, and the only thing I truly enjoyed was drawing in my sketchbooks. I kept the filled ones piled under my bed, most of them just containing crazy monsters or animals I'd imagined years ago. It was something to do and I was pretty good at it.

I decided it was time to lose myself in those drawings again, so I wouldn't have to confuse myself further with the whole Miley thing. It needed to be buried, never to be dug up again.

I walked into my room and sat on my bed, opening the draw to my nightstand and pulling out my drawing book. I flipped through the black and white images, all of them dark and fantasy related. It's been awhile since I've drawn anything human. I rummaged through the junk stuffed in my draw until I came across my pencil and then I propped some pillows up against the beds headboard and started my drawing.

* * *

Two hours later and I was still completely engrossed in my sketch. I'd started off by drawing two figures, one on the ground and another floating, but I wasn't sure what they were going to be, I just let my pencil shape them. The one on the floor turned out to be a young woman on her knees, restrained by chains and trying to raise her arms to reach for the retreating ghost like form. However, the ghost had the same face as the woman attempting to reach for it, though the hair was a different colour. I'd actually used coloured pencils for this, which was a rarity for me. Not to mention they were _people_. There was something familiar about them, but I didn't analyse what I drew, simply coloured every white space, taking care in tracing the outline of brown waves of hair on the woman restricted to the prison floor over with a darker tone. Her opposite was a blonde and she was surrounded by a glow, the gates behind her visible through her transparent body.

"Wow," Miley breathed and I jumped, dropping my pencil. She bent to pick it up, but her eyes were locked on the book in my lap. "That's amazing... How did you draw that?"

"Um... I wasn't really thinking about who it was or anything, it kind of drew itself," I replied, staring at the picture. I realised, as I took in the features that I had drawn, that it was Miley trying to reach for Hannah as she disappeared from her life.

"Shit, it's like you got inside my head and felt how helpless I was to stop Hannah from slipping away after I screwed up." She sighed and perched by my feet, taking my book and gazing intently at the page.

"Sometimes you need to lose it all to snap back to reality," I said, wondering how much I really stared at Miley to know all the details to her face.

"You got that right. Now that I know what it's like to have nothing, I appreciate everything I get, even though I don't deserve any of it in the slightest. I don't deserve you," she said softly, running a finger lightly over her face in the drawing before she turned to me, and the rawness in her stare, it freely showed me the absolute worship and gratitude she had for me and what I've done for her. Here I thought I was the one who was unworthy and she was looking at me like I was a godsend, like there wasn't anything more she needed. What was I going to do about the hand Miley just thrust into my chest and around my heart?

* * *

**?**


	7. Fun And Games

**And I return.**

* * *

That night, Miley and I had lounged around in my room, looking through my many sketchbooks. She was so absorbed in my drawings and would stare at just one for about five minutes before she told me what she loved about it, what stood out, and asked what I was thinking as I drew it. I enjoyed telling her about the things that inspired a picture, but found myself nodding off after a couple of hours. It was soothing spending time with Miley. Her energy was very laid back, which wasn't what I expected from a girl who was a pop star. I was thankful for it, no doubt there, though I had the looming idea that maybe this wasn't the person Miley used to be. Calm, composed, funny, quiet at times, that was how Miley acted. Was she okay with being a different person? Was this the real her? Or just the broken remains of Hannah Montana?

Casting a tired glance at the wide-awake girl, I studied her face, which adorned a gentle smile as she observed my work. She _appeared_ genuine and I trusted her to be herself, even though half of who she was had been lost along with the whole of her fortune.

I closed my eyes and the feel of the covers sliding over my shoulders, not by my doing, was the last thing I remembered before I fell asleep.

* * *

When I finally woke up after a tremendous amount of sleep, I felt around my bed blindly, not finding the usual body against my back or even in the bed with me. I opened my eyes and noticed a mess of brown hair down by my knees. Miley was propped against the side of my bed, her head lolled back in an awkward position, resting on my mattress. I carefully got up and saw one of my sketchbooks in her lap, opened on a page with a picture I had drawn over a week ago. I drew it on the night I found her outside of my house with my phone and wallet. It was from when I first saw her. I'd drawn the road, the black trees, and the top of my steering wheel, which my hands were turning in the direction of Miley's shadowed figure. Her arm and thumb were raised in a silent plea for me to pull over.

I slid out of bed and knelt down next to Miley, removing the book from her lap. I didn't want to wake her, but trying to pick her up might do just that anyway. Well, I guess now was a good time to find out if she was a heavy sleeper. I looped one arm under her knees and then used the other to support her back as I lifted her off the ground slightly, testing her weight. She wasn't too heavy, so I hoisted her up onto my side of the bed and tucked her in, almost laughing at the urge I had to lean forward and plant a kiss on her forehead. She mumbled undecipherable words and turned on her side, burying her face into my pillow. She was still fast asleep...

Suddenly daring, I extended a hand and twisted my fingers into Miley's hair. I'd had this bizarre desire for so long now. I'd catch her brushing her hair and find myself wishing she'd ask me to do it for her. I mean, there was just something so noxiously addicting about your shampoo in someone else's hair. It smelt totally different and better than you could ever imagine, like they added a secret ingredient you never thought to include. Miley shifted in her sleep and I lost my nerve, withdrawing my fingers from her soft curls.

I tip toed out of the room and focused on getting some breakfast, trying to shake off the tingling feeling overtaking my hands with the distraction of food.

* * *

"Do you have any twos?"

"Go fish." Miley narrowed her eyes suspiciously at me and I flashed a faux smile of innocence as she picked up another card to add to the many she already held. "Do you have any fives?" Miley nodded and retrieved the card and gave it up with a scowl. As I placed down two cards, Miley reached out and snatched the remaining ones in my other hand. She scanned over them with a serious expression and then shot me an accusing glare. Oh, shit.

"You've been lying! You have all the cards I've asked for!" she yelled, shoving them in my face.

"It's such nice weather out, why are we inside playing silly games anyway?" I smoothly changed the subject, hoping to escape the oncoming wrath I could practically smell fuming off of Miley's skin.

"Because it's raining, you big cheater. I don't want to play with you anymore if you're not gonna be fair," she said, dropping the cards and crossing her arms with a childish pout, an action that made me want to just reach over and pinch her cheeks. She stared unwaveringly at me and the need died down, seeing that she wasn't joking around like I first assumed she was.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Geez, cry me a river why don't you?" I replied with a mock eye roll.

"You suck..." she grumbled. I grinned and poked her in the stomach. She jolted away from me with a glare on her face and left the lounge room in a huff.

I packed up the deck of cards and Miley came back with her jacket on. The one which she'd bought yesterday, with her own money, not the money I offered. She'd finally found a job, despite my protests, and purchased a butt load of new clothes. At first, I told her to just quit and come with me to my mum's house every month or so to help with designs, but she was firm in her decision. However, now I am actually encouraging her to keep the job. Why? Because I get a discount on products from the bakery she 's working at! She didn't really want to work there, but it was the only joint that needed more employees and it was kind of out of sympathy. We walked in there and the manager was so stressed out and there were a lot of customers that demanded service. Miley asked the manager if she needed any help and she was hired on the spot. That was pure luck.

"Where are you going?" I asked as Miley grabbed my car keys off of the kitchen counter.

"_We_ are going to rent some movies," she responded, heading towards the front door without letting me have a say in the matter. What an asswipe! And uh... speaking of asses... Unintentionally, totally against my will, my gaze drifted down Miley's back and landed on her jean clad butt. Holy mother of God. "Come on, let's get going already!" Miley was peering over her shoulder with an impatient look and I prayed that she hadn't caught my eyes wandering over her glorious backside.

"Why can't you go by yourself?" I asked, not thinking it was too safe to go out with Miley while I was having very questionable thoughts about her.

"I need some arm candy?" Ugh, fuck me. She was smirking and facing me now, hands buried in the pockets of her jacket. Fighting off the need for a frontal body examination, I sprung up from the couch and ran over to her, nearly choking on my own drool caused by checking her out when she hooked her arm around mine. Pfft, and she said _I _was the arm candy.

* * *

**Um...?**


	8. To Hide

**There.**

* * *

Popcorn, a combination of action movies and chick flicks, a heap of junk food, and a beautiful girl curled up next to me under a shared blanket. Now _this _was the life. So simple, so lazy and yet so fulfilling. I couldn't really understand what it was exactly about Miley that changed these average things and made them so much better, but I'm glad she was here with her magic touch.

I never pictured myself actually enjoying living with another person. I mean, I could only put up with Sarah for one night and then I sent her home to extend on her plan to save the world from global warming's clutches alone. I did care about the world, but just not enough to dedicate my life to it. And, now that I think about it, I hate that with Miley around, I hardly miss Sarah at all. She is a great friend, but our interests differ so outrageously and she's always so overbearing. I couldn't take her anywhere without her throwing her petitions in people's faces or asking them to kindly stop destroying the ozone layer with their hair products. There's always a helpless animal or person to save and I'm usually the one she drags around to assist in her heroic acts.

Actually, Sarah was on one of her little adventures to better the world right now. She left me for a month to travel around with her hippie friends to help the less fortunate across the country and protest against anything that was a danger to nature along the way. I was invited, but was quick to turn her down. Being surrounded by tree huggers for more than four weeks wasn't my idea of a road trip. So, I watched Sarah go without a second thought and realised after the first week that I was bored out of my mind, lonely and in need of human contact. I was a wreck without Sarah around and I knew there was one alternative I could resort to. Visiting my mother.

She always got so excited whenever I dropped by and would go out of her way to make me dinner, which was saying something because she depended on her maids to make her meals mostly. I never mentioned how bad the food tasted because her eager smile and bright eyes always distracted me from the coal sliding down my throat and when I forced a satisfied grin, I thanked her for the wonderful meal. It was the least I could do for her. She was a kind-hearted woman and very fair to everyone, but pushing her buttons too often would result in a rather nasty bite mark on your ass cheek.

I played my part and drew out my stay at her too huge mansion with her loser boyfriend for as long as I could, but she was busy and I hated the pressure she threw on me when she couldn't make a decision. She'd lose it if I made one wrong move and like always, when the going got tough, I packed my shit up and got going! It was like any other visit, really, but somehow, I ended up arriving home with a new housemate who just so happened to be washed up pop star. A very gracious washed up pop star.

I faced Miley and studied her glazed eyes. Sugar highs only got a person so far and we had worked well into the A.M. I tiredly climbed out of the blanket that had been wrapped around Miley and I, planning to retire for the night, but warm fingers grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into my previous position. I gave Miley a confused glance, but she pouted and wove her thin arms around me.

"It's too cosy for you to leave. Please stay until the movie ends?"

Unsurprisingly, I settled into Miley's arms without protest and closed my eyes tiredly. The gentle strokes of her fingers through the tips of my hair and the feel of her heart thrumming against my cheek was the last things I felt before I shut down.

* * *

I woke up to a world containing ticklish annoyances and a lack of oxygen. The atmosphere was incredibly humid, I felt heavy, and breathing was an effort in itself. Not comprehending why all my functions were limited, I crossly opened my eyes and found Miley completely on top of me. It was her hair splashed across my neck that was causing the almost itchy sensations to skitter across my skin. Her mouth was close to my ear, I could feel and hear her hot exhales. She was lying on her stomach and didn't seem to care that she was smothering me with her entire self and I wouldn't have minded either if she weren't suppressing my breathing and making me sweat so profusely. Though her body was anything but light, I still noticed how soft the _feel _of her was. It was just like having layers upon layers of blankets wrapped around me, moulding to my form.

I put aside the desire to adjust Miley so I could cuddle with her for about... the rest of my life, and started to wiggle out from under her as gently as I could manage. Moments before my escape, Miley's limbs tensed around me and she grumbled her objection in my ear. I rolled my eyes at her unconscious persuasion and turned us onto our sides, deciding that maybe a few more minutes, or hours, in her arms wouldn't hurt.

* * *

My pencil soared across the page, but I wasn't focusing on what I was drawing at all. It was like... I was so involved in it that I couldn't clearly see what I was doing. I was just doing it almost blindly. That doesn't make sense, I know, but the curves, lines and shades my lead created and the mechanic movements of my hand were all that needed to be understood. They were controlled by my heart more so than my mind and everything was pouring out so forcefully that I was scared my strokes would cut through the paper and ruin my hours of work.

I softened the pressure I was putting on my pencil and transferred to tender sketches, flicking my wrist carefully to make this precious production just right and utterly perfect. It had to be.

"Honey, I'm home," Miley sung as she bounced into the house with a playful smile directed at me. I turned back to my picture and my breath choked me as it caught in my throat. What the _hell?_ "Lilly?" I slammed my book shut and hid it under the sofa cushions.

"Y-yeah?"

"Aren't you gonna say it?" she questioned, stripping out of her jacket and tossing it over the rack next to the front door.

"Say what?"

"'Welcome home, sweetheart'. Jeez, you can't even play along," she grumbled, throwing herself down next to me and I would have responded if not for the sudden sweet smell of donuts and... frosting invading my nose. I felt saliva building up and swallowed it along with a craving I'd never had before.

"Sorry, maybe I'll remember next time, but uh... what did you do at work today?"

"Oh! I had to frost a heap of cakes and everything. It was pretty fun and I may have stolen a taste every now and again," she said, chuckling lightly and that's when I noticed the plastic bag in her hand. I reached for it, but Miley intervened and slapped my hand away. "Uh, uh, not yet. These are for later. You're not allowed to spoil your dinner," she affirmed.

"You're worse than my mother," I muttered, shaking my head to clear the mist Miley's smell mingled with sugar brought forth.

"And yet you love me just as much," she teased.

I snuck my hand under the cushions and my fingers grazed against my book frightfully. Frightfully because I knew she was right and my most recent drawing held the proof.

* * *

**Sorry it's so short. Also, sorry it's been so long. **


	9. Once

**Yes, it's been a long time since this has been updated, I know. But this chapter is for a special occasion. You see, I intend to have a triple update day, in which two other stories will be updated hopefully within a few hours. The reason is simple, they will be a welcome home/ birthday present for my friend Smiley756**. **If you don't know of her, I suggest you make yourself well acquainted with her great stories.**

* * *

Lately, my drawings have been created unconsciously. I may as well be blind when it comes to the things that spew from my mind and heart to land on that white sheet of paper. And what's worse, every time I'd snap out of my deep stupor after I completed sketching the last delicate lines with great care, my eyes would widen in utter shock and I'd have yet another piece of work to hide from the wandering eyes and curious hands of Miley Stewart. My roommate was too amazing for her own damn good if you ask me. There was not a greedy bone in the girl's body and I often asked myself if Miley was at this level of cordiality as Hannah. I had wanted to ask her, but then she'd look at me with those big blue eyes and I'd forget which way was left and only remembered the colour of the sky because of her eyes, not because of what hung above me.

I was growing uneasy with these new feelings and I wished I could tell Miley about them, but the moment I was close enough I'd always lose my nerve once I caught a whiff of her perfume mixed with the recently gained aroma of sweet pastries from all the time she spends spilling substances on herself at the bakery. It's like the smell seeped right into her skin because it lingered around the house everyday and I woke up starving, but it wasn't food I was hungry for.

Tonight was going to be very different from our usual routine consisting of lounging around eating, watching TV and putting on the pounds. Well,_ I_ was putting on the pounds. Miley's body looked as perfect and shapely as ever. She felt so soft during those moments where we'd lean against each other... or when she'd unconsciously cuddle into me while she was sleeping. Oh, right, so back to what's happening tonight. There was a carnival in town to celebrate the coming of Halloween and when Miley caught sight of the commercial on TV, she stared at me with wide, begging eyes. I, of course, promised a night out at the carnival, which would probably be packed with people. I wasn't fond of crowds, but I was fond of Miley when she was happy, so...

"Come on, Lilly! I don't wanna get there late! We'll have to stand in line for hours if you don't hurry up!" Miley whined, snatching me from my thoughts as I buttoned up my jeans.

"Shut up," I muttered lowly, not expecting her to hear me. But I jumped as hands shoved mine aside to do up the button I was fumbling with. I looked up and Miley was staring at me with a serious expression, her eyes wild and her entire persona stunning. She was so close, I could smell the perfume she only wore on special occasions, could see the light makeup she'd applied. I was so screwed.

"If you tell me to shut up again, I'll cut your tongue out," she whispered menacingly and I mentally slapped myself to clear away the images of Miley using her teeth to dismantle my tongue.

"Go for it," I dared, but Miley chuckled, the intensity lost, and she released me.

"Are you at least ready to leave now?"

"Guess."

"Shut up." She smiled and took my hand, leading me from the room and outside to my car.

* * *

I rolled my eyes as Miley dragged me to yet another gaming booth. She had hauled me to every event, every ride, every_where_! Lines were endless, as was her enthusiasm and eventually, despite the annoying cries of enjoyment around me, I started to have some fun with my housemate. Her energy and liveliness was so new to me, for I'd spent my previous days with a solemn environmentalist who considered something beneficial to nature as fun. To be absolutely honest, it seldom was. I only joined Sarah on her 'save the world' quests because I admired her passion and dedication to being a selfless human being. But Miley... God, she was a whole different _species_ of selfless. Her acts of kindness warmed my heart right to its darkest depths and her upbeat attitude towards everything was infectious. The broken girl I first encountered on the streets was a stranger to me now.

Miley rarely had bouts of timidity nowadays and I was so grateful about that. She regained her confidence and has managed to go from a pop star, to a drifter, to an average classed worker, all in the period of one month. She was much more easy going when we were at home alone, but when we were out among a crowd of people Miley would develop a whole lot of energy and she'd chatter mindlessly with a giant grin on her face. She enjoyed outings and I was becoming less of a hermit because I really wanted to please this beautiful girl. Even if it meant dealing with smelly adults, obnoxious teenagers and screaming children.

* * *

"Hey Miley," I called, but gained no response. I stood up from the swing I had been on and went over to the play gym a few feet away, peering down at the girl laying on the small red slide. She'd insisted that we make a pit stop at a nearby park before going home from our night out at the carnival. I'm not sure why she'd requested such a thing, but I agreed anyway. I snuck beside her on the slide, leaning over her face without a word. Her eyes opened slowly and when she saw me, she let out what sounded like a strangled yelp. I then proceeded to throw myself down against the bend of the slide so I could laugh until it hurt.

"You asshole! You scared the crap out of me!" Miley cried, which only made me laugh harder. She sat up and poked me in the side of the stomach, causing my dying chuckles to become forced giggles as she tickled me ruthlessly. Her revenge had me gasping and pleading for her to stop, which she did after a continued ten seconds of attacking my tender waist. I laid there panting and once my breathing became settled, I gazed at the stars overhead and smiled as I pointed at what might have been a constellation.

"That looks like a rabbit." Miley chuckled and pointed to the left of my star bunny.

"And that looks like a fox about to eat it," she joked and I nudged her side with my elbow before gesturing to a single star hanging closely by the moon.

"See that really bright star right there? I think that one looks like... Hannah Montana." Miley didn't reply as soon as I thought she would have and I held my breath anxiously.

"If it falls, then we can be certain it's her," she whispered with such a strong tremor of forlorn in her voice that my chest received a sharp stab of sorrow so profound I nearly couldn't breathe. The ache only stopped once I encircled Miley in a hug. She buried her face feebly into my neck and we stayed there like that, quietly grieving.

"Miley... Do you ever want to...?" I started to ask, but was fearing it may still be too early to bring up the matter I'd been pondering.

"What?" She prompted.

"Do you ever want to go back to being Hannah?" Miley remained silent after that and I hoped I hadn't further upset her. I heard the static of her movement as she pulled away from me, meeting my eyes with a weak smile.

"Sometimes I do... but sometimes I'm glad to finally be away from all the hype. That lifestyle wasn't healthy for me and I was getting involved with the wrong kinds of people. I think about all I've lost, but now I think about what I've gained and though it's less than what I once had, it means more to me. I don't ever want to risk what I have now in an attempt to put my old life back together. I didn't realise how much I had missed the simple things until you let me live with you, Lilly. I could never leave you, even if you wanted me to." Miley's smile brightened and my heart stopped beating. Our eyes were locked and once more, I wasn't able to breathe. There was an insistent urge in my very bones that I didn't know how to sate. Her words hit me so deeply that taking no action would be the worst felony imaginable.

I took a moment to study the beauty of Miley's face before anything else. No matter how many times I drew her, there was always something missing. The images were incomparable to the real thing and I don't think I'd ever found a women I'd wanted to perfect in my art. Miley's all I can draw.

I wasn't sure what I was doing, but the nearer I drew, the more things made sense to me, so I continued my advance. Her smile never faltered and she closed her eyes, something my mind took as an invitation as I softly pressed my lips against Miley's.

For one second, I felt complete. For one second, I knew what it felt like to have every single question answered. For one second, I wanted nothing more in my life than for Miley to return this kiss. But I was harshly pushed away before more time could pass and Miley shot up from the slide, glowering at me with such rage that I almost regretted kissing her. Almost.

"I want to go home," she announced coldly. I watched, frozen in place, as she turned her back on me and walked slowly to the car and I scurried to my feet, tailing sluggishly behind her. I felt humiliated and was completely ashamed with myself for acting on my nameless desires. I knew what I wanted now, but it was an impossible thing to gain. Miley made that quite evident with her alarming rejection of my kiss. She climbed into the passenger's side of the car as soon as I unlocked the doors and once I was seated, I glanced at her to find nothing but an impassive expression adorning her face.

"I'm sorry," I said softly.

"So am I."

* * *

**Ha, screw the carnival scene :P**


	10. Tender Topics

**BIFF DOESN'T EVEN KNOW THIS IS COMING.**

**

* * *

**

That night was so tense that I could barely breathe. I drove Miley back home, wishing I hadn't been so thoughtless and given into an urge I didn't even know I had. Yes, Miley was attractive, funny, adorable, kind... Okay, so she was a lot of great things, but that didn't mean it was acceptable to just launch myself at her! She's straight and I _thought _I was. I kissed a girl. I liked it. Did that make me gay? Did it matter that I didn't want to kiss any girl other than Miley? Hello? Answers?

Miley slept on the couch and I felt lonely. My bed was cold and there was just no satisfaction in sleeping when Miley's warm body wasn't flush against my back. She would never sleep by me again. She would never even touch me again. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up to find her gone! I didn't know how to make things right. I had apologised many times. I had even tried to pretend it was an accident, that I slipped and it was completely unintentional. But Miley knew better. She could see through the lie and I accepted her cold shoulder after my attempts to fix things.

I wouldn't give up, though. I was up bright and early the next day, attempting to cook pancakes for my lovely Miley. Yes, I was hopeless in the kitchen, but mother's chef had taught me the basics and I did have instructions printed off from an online cooking site I unabashedly went on before starting to cook.

I rarely used my laptop. I enjoyed going out and buying what I needed, since I hardly got the chance to get out of the house. I preferred drawing, or watching TV than wasting time on the laptop. I only really used it to check emails Sarah sent me from her mission to save the world. She decided to extend her trip away from Denver so she could travel further out of state with her crew. I did miss her, but I had more important issues to deal with. I needed Miley's forgiveness.

I had the pancake batter prepared and had attempted to pour some into the frying pan in a nice circle shape, but it turned into an oval, then a giant slab that took over half the frying pan and I groaned.

"How the fuck was I supposed to know how much to pour in!" I muttered, glaring at the step on the sheet of paper that read 'only use a small amount of batter for each pancake'. I waited for the impossible offender to cook so I could take it out and try again.

Many trials ended up in failure. When there was only half of the pancake batter left, I was startled to find Miley sitting at the kitchen counter, watching. I hadn't even heard her pull out a chair.

"Oh, shit, Miley. I think you just gave me a stroke," I breathed and a flicker of a smile touched her lips.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked, her voice still coated with sleep.

"Uh, well... I was trying to make you breakfast... I don't want you to be upset with me for something I did unintentionally." Yes, I lied. I did it because, in that moment, I wanted to. I wanted to lower myself onto her, I wanted to kiss her until the stars faded into dawn. But she didn't need to know that.

"Really? This is your strategy for forgiveness?" Her tone was cold and it hit me right in the place only Miley could reach.

"What more can I do, Miley? I've already given you everything I have," I snapped. Her mouth fell open and she lowered her eyes to the table.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

"Because you've been nothing but kind to me and you made only one mistake and I'm acting like you raped me."

"Jesus, did I really make you feel that violated? I...I don't want you feeling like this house isn't a safe place to be." I met her eyes, noticing the glassy reflection of them. I turned the frying pan off and walked over to her. She tensed and flinched as I sat down on the opposite side of the counter and placed a hand on her arm.

She examined me with a shielded regard. I hated that I betrayed her trust. I squeezed her limb desperately and whispered, "Please don't leave me." Her hardened gaze lost its intensity as she looked at my pathetic need for her company and she hesitantly placed her hand over mine, stroking my fingers.

"I'm not leaving, Lilly. I still care about you. I'm just not... gay." She treated the word like it was her first time saying it and my insides crumbled. Rejection was more difficult to hear than consider. She didn't need me to say kissing her was no slip up. She was Hannah Montana! She was the master of disguise and could see past mine without any effort. There was no use denying it, because my constant denial would only annoy her further. There was only one thing left for me now. Honesty.

"That's the thing, I thought I wasn't either. I haven't been in a relationship before, but I was positive I wasn't... into girls."

"Am I the first girl you've liked?"

"Yes." _And probably the last, _I added in my head. Miley was silent after I told her this and I didn't want to sit there awkwardly discussing something I didn't really understand, so I stood back up and proceeded with making pancakes.

* * *

All my feet walked on were eggshells. Ever since I kissed Miley, she spent her nights on the couch, her weekdays at work, her evenings silently watching TV or hiding in the gym room. We hardly spoke and I didn't know how to tell her that I wasn't suddenly a disease she had to avoid, that I would respect her entirely and not a lay a finger on her if she were to join me in bed again. I had no control of myself as I slept, but I recall _Miley_ being the one who curled into _me _every night since she first moved in with me.

Yes, I had feelings for her, but that didn't mean I would act on them again. That night, I didn't fully know what I was dealing with, so I didn't know what I was meant to control. I knew now, and I wished that she wouldn't hold that against me. She talked to me, but she seemed more reserved and one night, I saw an old report on Hannah Montana where she had an interview and I suddenly realised that she wasn't treating me like a friend, but a stranger. Like I was someone just imposing on her life. Her smiles were stage smiles, her laugh feigned, her words limited. It was like she saw me as a completely different person.

Infuriated, I started to draw. There were dark shadows, pale eyes, scribbled phrases of mistrust. I was like some monster now. I was someone who just happened to live with Miley, not someone she wanted to be around. I had the looming idea that Miley was searching for her father behind my back. She wanted to move out, to leave me, even when she said she wouldn't.

It was a Saturday, around two weeks after enduring a growing distance wedging between Miley and I. She was in the kitchen, making dinner, her clothes unchanged and smelling mildly of sugar. I moved beside her, waiting to be acknowledged. She continued stirring some vegetables in a pot, her expression empty.

"Miley?" I ventured, unsurprised when she only spared me a glance. She couldn't look me in the eye anymore.

"Yeah?" Even her tone had changed. There was no more exuberance, no more inflections that betrayed her mood. There was just a constant monotonous drone of wariness.

"I'm tired of this."

"Of what?"

"You. I hate how you're treating me just because of how I feel. It _will_ go away, Miley. Something so small won't linger if it's not explored. You need to trust me," I said sombrely and Miley stopped stirring the vegetables, finally meeting my gaze for longer than a second.

"I do trust you," she argued.

"No. If you trusted me, you wouldn't be so on edge around me. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

Her eyes stared right through me as she processed everything I said. Would things ever be the same again? Would we ever playfully flirt with each other and laugh until our stomachs stitched?

"I'm sorry, Lilly." That was all. Another apology. But this one, this one seemed like it would actually matter, because before I could say anything more, Miley's arms were around me and I swore I caught a hint of her old smile as she buried her face into my hair.

* * *

**I don't even care.**


	11. Road Trip

**This:**

* * *

Miley still didn't sleep in my bed. There were connections to mend before she could trust me entirely again. But there was progress. She was talking to me more and seemed relaxed to be in the same room as me. She'd sit a little closer to me each time we shared the couch and I had to admit, I was starting to feel happier. There was no more of that awkward behaviour that irritated me to no end. No more alarmed eyes when I accidently touched her. No more noisy sighs that sounded like twenty times a day. All of that was over and I was content with the path we were strolling down together, but, of course, the sky couldn't be blue forever. There were foreboding clouds and these hideous obscuring messes came in the form of a phone call.

I was humming away in the kitchen, making lunch while Miley was at work. The shrill cry of the phone made me jump and I picked it up reluctantly. Sarah had called me last night, and she had no reason to call again so soon, which could only mean...

"Hello?"

"Lilly! My precious child! It has been so _long_ since you last visited!" My mom chirped brightly. I rolled my eyes.

"It was only a couple months ago, Mother," I protested, already knowing where this was leading. I glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would be until I broke the news to Miley.

"Nonsense. I want you to come up and visit again. I need your opinion on a few new outfit designs and I'd love to meet that new little housemate of yours."

"Yes, Mother," I sighed, understanding long ago that there was never any use to be disobedient. Mother couldn't take no for an answer. She also was completely oblivious to her own condescendence, despite the number of times I had mentioned it.

"Wonderful! I expect you here tomorrow before lunch. I'll have Felicity cook you something."

Felicity, that poor, poor woman. She was Mother's personal chef and she'd been a loyal employee for ten years now. She cooked me meals when I was an overdramatic teenager fresh from a bad day.

I remember one time I had come home from school in the worst mood imaginable. I stormed my way into the kitchen, threw my bag to the ground, and fell onto the small footstool Felicity always used to reach higher levels in the many cupboards. The woman was in the midst of washing some dishes when she turned and found me glaring at the tiled floor. I wasn't sure what I looked like to her, but she burst out laughing and didn't stop until I joined in.

"Heavens! What has got you pulling such an ugly face?" Felicity cried as she caught her breath. My smile dropped once I recalled the day I had endured.

"This boy kept following me around all day, Izzy! I don't get it, I told him I was busy and didn't have time to talk, but he insisted on helping me in some way! He was frickin' deaf, I swear! He picked up my pencils if I dropped them, he brushed away my eraser dust if I rubbed out a mistake and he wanted to know if I was free to go out sometime. Like, what the hell? I can go out by myself or with Sarah, why would I go anywhere with him?"

Felicity chuckled and breezed over to me, crouching down so our eyes were level. Her face hadn't yet been creased by the lines of age, but the wisdom in her gaze was ancient.

"Darling, I think this boy might have a crush on you."

I gasped and found my tongue unable to form any words and my jaw hung loose as Felicity smiled and returned to the sink. As I processed the information, I felt my face scrunch up and I found my response, which was a very disgruntled, "Gross!"

That memory was one of my dearest, because I was so unaware of everyone's advances. I always was. Felicity was more of a mother to me, as she was the one who gave me constant advice and ridiculed me for my foolish behaviour when it came to boys and romance. Mother was too engrossed in her work and was too unlucky in relationships to offer any useful guidance.

Then there was Sarah. She was my friend since I was a freshman. She inspired me to continue with my work, to be as wild as I wanted to be on a piece of paper. For some reason, her vigour inspired me and I didn't shy away from her. Not that I could, she was a relentless chatterbox, and most of the time, she was simply thinking out loud while in my presence, and it's something I came to appreciate about her. Sarah was the one who convinced me to be more independent and move down to Delta with her. She came here because, apparently, she feared the corruption of a once humble city, and I came here because, well, I could be left alone. All the boys that Mother tried to set me up with, all the clothes she'd buy me that I didn't want. They were things that pushed me to escape.

"Alright. Bye, love you," I said abruptly, deciding to save the reminiscing for later.

"Lillian, wait!"

"What?"

"You will bring your friend, won't you?"

"Yes," I sighed.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow. I love you!" I hung up as soon as she said that.

God, I felt sorry for Miley.

* * *

I couldn't believe this girl. She was _excited_. She was_ excited_ to meet my mother. This was totally uncalled for and now Miley couldn't stop smiling and asking questions about the woman and my childhood. She bounced in her seat slightly and I had to force myself to pay attention to the road so we didn't crash. Not that it was likely, since this highway was usually deserted at this time on the weekend. Miley didn't notice the swerve of the car, and I supposed I didn't care all that much either. I mean, I was obviously ecstatic about having an actual conversation with Miley again, but I hadn't discussed my past in so long that I drew a lot of blanks when it came to remembering some events. Things were hazy, but Miley still paid attention to everything I told her, even when I had to pause several times in an attempt to put the fragments of my memory together.

"So, you're nothing like your mother at all?" she questioned.

"Well, I'm told I look a lot like her, but other than that, no. We're from totally different planets."

"Daddy always said I was just like my mama." Miley's voice was soft as she told me this and I smiled, because she brought up her mother so rarely. According to the small history available of Hannah Montana, her mother suffered a mysterious death. I never had the heart to ask Miley what the real cause was, but I knew it was a touchy subject and merely accepted the small bouts of information Miley was willing to share. Miley was a tender-hearted girl and there was still so much to learn about her. Silent observations could only teach me so much.

"Then she must have been a wonderful person." I dared a glance and caught Miley's cheeks colouring a pale red under her tan. Jesus, I made her blush.

"She was..." The nervous edge to her tone wasn't from discomfort, it was from embarrassment. What did that mean? That my subtle flirting wasn't repugnant? Was... Was Miley possibly interested? Now that was crazy! I needed to get a grip, because Miley made it quite clear that she didn't want to be anything more than friends. It was absurd for me to think otherwise and now I felt like a creep. A beautiful woman didn't ignore you for weeks and treat your existence like a disease if she wanted to get in your pants (Though Miley _has _been in them before, when, you know, she didn't have any clothes of her own.) Okay, time to think of something else.

"So, where's your dad?" Miley, you are a goddess.

"Not a clue. Mom was never one for faithfulness."

"You're joking! You don't know who your father is?"

"Oh, I know him, but he hardly takes the time to get to know me. I've met him about five times in my life and even that feels like too much," I grumbled, not at all impressed by the man that helped bring me into this world. He was a lazy, cocky, good-for-nothing scumbag.

"That's a shame, but at least you have your mama." Ugh, those innocent titles she bestows are so fucking adorable.

"And Felicity," I added.

"The chef?" I had mentioned Felicity briefly earlier.

"Yeah, I guess she took on the role of the father or something. My family is a little weird, I'll admit."

"You're a little weird too," Miley threw in with a slight shove to my arm, which sent my heart on a rampage as she laughed lightly. Man, what am I going to do about this?

"You have no idea."


	12. The Stirrings

**Whatever, son!**

* * *

We arrived at my mother's estate in Denver and Miley scrambled out of the car, eager to stretch after many hours of driving. By the time I joined her side, her head was tilted back, staring at the elegant white walled building before us. There were two storeys and the roof and windowpanes were a gleaming black. While this beautiful home looked expensive and clean, it lacked character. Everything was black and white, lifeless. Even the garden lining the border of the house and the walkway looked fake and I locked my car and moved quickly to the cobblestone footpath leading to the front door.

The black gates straddling the front and back yard had closed behind my car and I already felt trapped. Sure, my childhood wasn't restricting, but maybe it was my freedom that I found restricting, because what I really wanted were some rules to bind me. I was tired of having a life without responsibility and this house was a definite reminder of my lack of self-sufficiency. I only wanted to create art, to absorb myself in what I could produce with just a pencil, but there had to be more. I wasn't a famous artist and would never share my works with anyone outside of my friends and family. Maybe that was what I needed to do: start sharing what I made.

I mean, look at Miley. She had lived a lot like me. She was spoiled, she got whatever she wanted, but, unlike me, because of one mistake, she lost everything and was still able to find stability in her life. That must have been a huge transition for her. That's why she inspired me. If Miley could fall such a long distance and still climb right back up and continue trying, then maybe I could extend myself somehow.

Miley had already rung the doorbell and when I was beside her, Felicity opened the door.

"Hello Lilly and... this must be Miley," she said, smiling kindly.

I hugged her and entered the house, while Miley shook her hand and answered the array of questions Felicity was already asking. She wanted so many details on "the mysterious girl I just let move into my house" but I refused to tell her anything. I was entrusted with Miley's secret and not even my surrogate mother could know what it was.

The floors were tiled and I remembered how much I complained about cold feet during the winter. I would leap onto the black rugs and avoid touching the icy tiles as much as I could. It became a fun pastime during my many lonely hours cooped up in this house. It was almost unfortunate that I didn't abuse my chance to do whatever I wanted. Teenagers would have craved my position.

I exited the hall lined with childhood photos of me, ignoring Miley's giggles when she saw them, and saw Mom lounging in a chair on the decking through the glass sliding doors. She had a magazine on her chest. I walked out onto the deck and realised she had fallen asleep. I was about to shake her shoulder when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I looked towards the gates of the pool area to find a shirtless man cleaning out the filter of the pool.

I chuckled and the sound startled Mom awake. She sat up from her reclined position and glanced at the pool cleaner, then at me.

"Oh, Lilly! You're here!" she jumped up and wrapped her arms around me. The smell of her expensive perfume itched my nose and I returned the hug.

"Yup, and I believe I found out why you spend so much time outside." I withdrew from my mother's embrace and gestured to the pool cleaner with a smirk.

"Oh, uh..." Mom hesitated bashfully, and then quickly spun around as Miley stepped onto the deck with us. "Miley!"

"I'm surprised you remembered her name," I mocked and Miley gave me a shocked look as Mom hugged her just as she had hugged me.

"It's hard to forget a name you never stop mentioning," she countered and I felt my cheeks warm. Miley smiled at me and I lowered my eyes.

"So, Miley, please tell me how you stand living with Lilly. She's such a lazy girl and I can't see how anyone could be with her for longer than a day."

"Oh, I enjoy living with her," Miley replied, clearly uneasy with how happily Mom insulted me. It wasn't new; we always teased each other.

"Now, now, don't be nice just because she's standing there," Mom said impishly.

"Mom, don't-"

"Goodness, I should show Miley the photo album!"

"No, Mom!" I tried to block her path, but she'd already grabbed Miley's arm and dragged her into the house.

Miley was more than willing to move quickly into the living room. The bookcase was placed in the left corner, opposite the flat screen TV, and the bottom shelf was reserved solely for the many photo albums Mom had kept, most of them filled with pictures of me.

Today was going to suck.

* * *

As predicted, Mom embarrassed me ruthlessly. With every humiliating photo, there came an even more humiliating story. I wanted to interrupt several times, but I knew it was useless. Mom would ignore me and continue. The only enjoyable thing about Mom revealing my embarrassing history to Miley was Miley's obvious delight. She laughed often and would glance at me with what I believed to be affection. It caused this extremely light feeling to explode in my chest and I stopped hearing Mom's words for an instant. I anticipated these moments.

However, Mom was only onto the second album when Felicity beckoned me, claiming to need help with something in the kitchen. Miley and I left early so we could share lunch with Mom and it seemed Felicity had been cooking since we arrived.

I stepped into the familiar kitchen and felt a little nostalgic. I remembered how I would watch Felicity cook and share small tales with her. She would never let me help cook, because she insisted that she was paid to do all the work, so I usually kicked back and kept her entertained. I honestly had no desire to cook, but ever since Miley moved in, I started to feel obligated to learn. I didn't want Miley thinking that I was completely hopeless and dependent because I was a rich girl. Well, I didn't like to think of myself as rich. I helped Mom with her work to earn my share and I only ever spent the money she gave me on bills, food, art supplies, and clothes. I didn't like the idea of excessive indulgence.

Suddenly, I realised something.

"Izzy, you never need my help," I said accusingly.

"Sorry. I wanted a way of getting you alone for a moment and that was the first thing that came to mind." She pushed a stray strand of black hair out of her face and smiled slyly.

"What's going on?" I asked sceptically.

"You have a crush." Her tone was a tad mocking and she leant against the kitchen counter.

"...Huh?"

"Lilly, I know you. I can tell that this Miley girl is very special to you."

"Izzy, what I feel for her is wrong."

"Love is never wrong," she said firmly, her eyes fierce. I recognised that sombre expression. She wore it every time she thought she was right about something.

"It is sometimes; she doesn't share my feelings. I need to get rid of them," I said sadly.

"Living with her won't make it any easier, Lilly. You're not a child anymore. What you experience in here," she pointed to my heart, "is going to be a lot more intense."

I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes.

"This is so stupid. Why does love even exist?" I mumbled.

Felicity laughed gleefully.

"I've missed that little personality of yours. Don't give up, my dear. Miley isn't as disinterested as you believe," she assured.

"How can you tell?"

"Intuition." She shrugged when I looked at her in confusion and she turned to tend to the food cooking in the oven and the salad she was preparing.

I left the kitchen to join Miley and Mom again, only to find them gone. I called out and a voice from upstairs replied to me. I prayed that Mom wasn't showing Miley my old bedroom and raced up the staircase. I found that my room was untouched and empty, to my relief, and followed the faint chatter I could hear from down the hall. The last door to the right was Mom's design room. I assumed she was either showing Miley her latest creations, or seeking "youthful advice".

I entered the room and bingo! Leaning over the drawing board, I could hear Mom asking Miley about the sleeves of a shirt and if the length was appropriate. I wasn't as infatuated with fashion as Mom was, but at least the various balls of paper proved that she worked hard to please her customers. Every month she'd have to supply her business managers with fifteen new outfits, and that was at the least.

Miley probably knew a tonne more about the subject, since she was Hannah Montana and I was certain the pop star had a vast and expensive wardrobe full of nothing but the best clothes money could buy.

I thought maybe I should leave them to it, but Mom glanced over her shoulder at me and said, "Lilly, why don't you let Miley see your room? Lunch will be ready soon, so I'll meet you downstairs," she said, cupping Miley's shoulder warmly before she turned back to her work.

Miley left Mom's side and joined mine, her fingers brushing my knuckles (on purpose?). I smiled nervously, then escorted her to my childhood bedroom, where I spent many hours studying anatomy or the effect of light sources. The walls were a pale yellow by my choice, but I couldn't remember why I picked that colour. Mom said it was because I loved bananas, but I was sure she was screwing with me.

"It's adorable," Miley commented, stepping onto the fuzzy rug and dancing in a circle as she admired every childish thing I left behind. Even as a teenager, I still wanted stuffed animals on my bed (I loved bears) and they still sat there, gazing cheerily at nothing. My oldest and favourite toy was at my house, but I kept him nestled deep in the closet so he would stay safe. I didn't want to expose the little guy to this chaotic world.

"Thanks, I like to think that it reflects me," I replied, padding over to my old desk and opening a drawer.

"You're adorable too," she murmured and my hand froze in its rummaging. I swung my head around to look at her. She was admiring a picture on the wall I'd left my Mom, but there was no doubting her flushed face. She was not only being friendly, but she was _flirting_ with _me_. Me! The girl who gave her a sloppy inexperienced smooch under the stars. Unable to stop myself, I grinned.

"You're not too bad yourself, Miss Stewart," I returned with undeniable hope flickering in my mind.


End file.
